Iconoclasm
by Silenthunder
Summary: The thoughts of Watcher X after mentally appearing before the Agent and revealing the truth about their situation.


**Iconoclasm: The act of attacking or assertively rejecting cherished beliefs and institutions or established values and practices.**

I kneel beside your weak body, looking into eyes full of bewilderment and fear, for you finally know the truth. The truth that hurts. The truth that shows you what you really are. You are a disposable, a mere pawn in the chess game of White Republic and Black Empire, useful only for as long as you are valuable, then easily sacrificed for a higher purpose. You are helpless, your energy drained, your mind almost shattered, unable to move or even hold a blaster. You are trapped, always have been, but at least you know now about the sick game that those you trusted have played on you. You are betrayed, now knowing, like me, that you cannot trust anyone, for everyone is your enemy, and now you cannot even trust yourself with your will almost vanquished, with no control over yourself, a mere puppet who always had strings binding it from the beginning.

Should I feel smug that you now know how it feels? To be a slave to so many? To know that those you dared to trust have turned against you? My voice is serious, but I cannot hide the laughter in my eyes. Now you know. I warned you with my dying breath: "You can't make it out of this. No one ever does." No one ever escapes from the lies, the twists and turns of life. The Jedi and Sith are wrong; there is no black and white, only gray that blurs the edges and covers everything in a mist so no one will find their way and win in the end. And what I foretold has come true. It is fitting, in a way.

But it is also wrong. I understand your dilemma. When you came to me on Nar Shadda, I immediately saw the fire in your eyes. You had potential, ambition that would take you far. The Sith are afraid of a challenge to their authority, a lesson you learned too late. Your determination would make your superiors fear you, enough to do everything they could to reduce your power. They wouldn't eliminate you, having so useful a tool. But they would make sure the tool wouldn't turn around and cut the hand that held it. It would happen to you.

Because it happened to me. They brought me to Shadow Town because I had seen the truth. Intelligence called me unstable for seeing traps everywhere, _but there are_. You can never be sure who's on your side and who isn't. So you must always be on guard, make certain there isn't a hint of the mist. You remember how I recited room-checking procedures when we first met. I guess I may have been doing it for your sake, to try to warn you. But you didn't see the danger hovering like a kraytdragon, ready to strike. When the trap was sprung, you would have no rescue.

So I provided you with a way for rescue, by planting that innocent chip in your spine. A chip that would not only make you a droid to life-sensor readings, but a chip that would let me come when I was needed, whether alive or dead. And now that you think about it, no one ever took it out after you saw me for the last time. It remained there, awaiting its purpose.

And finally the time came when the word was spoken, and you became no better than a machine. I was dead, but my image could now speak. And I told you what had happened as you lay in the darkness of your controlled will: "Mind control. Brain damage. Inevitable." It had always been inevitable, like I had tried to tell you. Insanity would settle in if the conditioning weren't treated. But it could be treated. So I waited for the time to tell you, whispering to you throughout the days, contemplating your choices, learning more about the place my consciousness inhabited, from that day until today.

And now we have come full circle. Just recently your skull began cracking and I forced my way out, looking as you remembered me. And I have told you the truth about the "good" and "evil" sides of this galaxy. It is much to comprehend, I know. But you have the chance of freedom, the advantage to those who hold you a slave to their whims. You are in debt to me for guiding you, a debt you can pay by acting as a true agent would when you are freed. I really am your last hope now – you cannot deny it. And you can give hope to Intelligence, to everyone, if you play your cards right. What I have given you, you can pass on to those of your choosing.

You may be wondering why I, the one who died by your hand, am helping you. Well, for one thing, I give you hope and help because I could not bear to see another fall prey to a traitor's dominance, even if you were my enemy. I feel responsible to break the bonds that are tied so tightly.

I know that once your chains are broken, so will mine be also. I cannot stay forever. I came with the programming, and with it I shall go. I have a feeling, however, that when I vanish for the last time, you will miss me.

And, in a way, so will I.


End file.
